


"You deserve this...."

by EWM



Series: Febuwhump (First one ever!!) [8]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: All the guilt, Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump, Blood and broken bones, Creepy Murdoc (MacGyver TV 2016), FebuWhump2021, Gen, Guilt, Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump, Mac feeling guilty, MacGyver being attacked, So much guilt, Wounded, broken ribs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EWM/pseuds/EWM
Summary: This is a new chapter in the story I wrote for the the FebuWhump prompt (Pistols and Red Pools)You guy's response was amazing so thank you!!!Mac faces some of the consequences of his actions for the events in the war roomWritten with prompt 8 in mind“Hey hey, this is no time to sleep…I’m not done with you.”
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: Febuwhump (First one ever!!) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150052
Comments: 16
Kudos: 30
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	"You deserve this...."

The guards pushed and shoved MacGyver along the grey corridors of the foundation. He tripped at one point and his knee jarred. When he put his hands down to stop himself falling flat, he found a rifle under his chin ‘guiding’ him up again, he also felt the barrel of a second gun in his hair. Slowly he raised his hands once more and started to walk again. He ignored the jabs to the back and his arms and the now throbbing pain in one of his legs. Finally, they stopped at one of the interrogation rooms, one of the men opened the door with a key card and there was murmuring of chatter. There was a table and two chairs in the room

“We’ll need to get rid of everything.”

“He can make a weapon out of anything.”

“Should we cuff him?”

“Did you not hear me? He can make a weapon out of anything. Everything out”

Mac waited with a gun to the ribs as the men moved into to grab the table and chairs. Once they were gone, there was more pushing and prodding. He paused for a second on the threshold, it seemed surreal being put into one of the rooms he had questioned so many people in himself. Even given the horrible circumstances, his brain was having trouble adjusting to this new world (there was quite a lot wrong with Mac’s brain at this point, this was just one thing on a long list). A boot to the back brought him back to the moment, he slammed into the floor. His leg started to bleed more profusely. He managed to turn himself around and get on his feet. He moved back to the door limping heavily, the guns were still trained on him

“Can you tell me if he’s even alive?”

“Why would you care?”

He hadn’t really expected an answer. But he couldn’t not ask. One of the men took the butt of his rifle and shoved it into Mac’s stomach harder enough that he fell back against the opposite wall. Then they shut the door and locked it. Mac just about managed to stay on his feet. But it wouldn’t have mattered, now he was alone, the reality of what he had just done began to sink in. He slowly slid down the wall. He replayed the scene in his head; the agony, the lack of control and the look of shock on Jack’s face when the bullet hit his chest. Then there was Murdoc; Murdoc smiling at him, screaming at him, slapping his face, pouring ice-water on him. There were strange flashes, he could remember Murdoc putting an electric wire to his hands on repeat and a knife into his leg. And of course, the instructions; you will enter the Phoenix Foundation and kill Jack Dalton with pistol, then you will be free. It spun around in his head like an answer phone message.

But when tried to recall other basic things like how he got to the Foundation or even the first time Murdoc told him to shoot Jack, his mind was completely blank. His head ached like he’d be concussed (before the guards had shoved him hard into the wall). In attempt to try and calm himself and forget about the fact that Jack’s blood now covered his feet, he took inventory of his body. His leg had a deep cut in it, he could feel heavy bruising on his other leg. He was filthy as if he’d been in the mud for days and he stank. Mac ran his fingers through his hair to try and clean some of it away. His face was raw, he ran his fingers across it and registered the black eye and the cuts. He found himself shivering too, maybe some kind of infection? So he wrapped his arms around himself. Mac pulled one of his sleeves up in the process and that was when he saw the first track mark. He pushed his sleeves up further and saw a scattering of marks across his arms, some were old, some were new.

Mac had no idea what Murdoc had given him. There was no smell or taste that he could pick up on. He lent back against the wall running his fingers across the marks, trying to recall when he’d been drugged, but Jack’s face came into his mind instead. MacGyver didn’t know what he would do if Dalton didn’t survive, he’d never forgive himself and…the others…they would never forgive him, and he didn’t deserve to be pardoned or tolerated or anything. Even if Jack did survive, he didn’t deserve to be given another chance or understanding…or anything. He would lose his place here, his work, his friends and family and that would be right. He’d…he was a monster…he supposed that was what Murdoc wanted. Mac would be alone and that would be that. Mac pictured how the next few days might go, he would be questioned by Webber and if…if Jack didn’t make it. He’d go down for murder, he wondered if there would be some kind of trial or not? Maybe not because of the nature of what the Phoenix was, maybe they’d lock him away in a black site and he’d rot there. It wasn’t as if there was any doubt, dozens of people had been there as witnesses. He hit his head against the wall, Jack’s eyes; that look of genuine surprise, it would haunt him for the rest of his life. Mac could see it all Bozer turning his back on him, Riley screaming or maybe not. Riley wasn’t really the screaming type, she was the silent type; if she truly hated someone, she’d never speak to them again, they would be frozen out. What would his father do? Would his father try and help him or abandon him? Not that he deserved help, but Mac wondered out of sheer voyeuristic curiosity.

He didn’t know how much time had passed in that room, his mind went into a kind of haze as he sat their freezing. The entrance of the doctor made him jump. Mac got to his feet aware of the soldiers flanking the doctor and raised his hands again.

“I’m here on the instructions of Director Webber. She’s told me to examine you and check over what injuries you might have.”

“Is Matty…I mean Director Webber coming to… talk to me?”

“She will be coming to interrogate you about the shooting of Agent Dalton in the war room and the circumstances leading up to it.”

“Is Jack???”

“That’s classified information Mr MacGyver”

Mac took a deep breath, one of the soldiers snapped at him

“Why do you even care? Checking to see if you did the job properly?”

“Private keep quiet, we’re here to do a job.”

“Do you want me to cuff him?”

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary”

“But??”

“Mr MacGyver, are you going to do me any damage in any way while I examine you ?”

Mac shook his head, the soldier did not look convinced and kept his weapon trained on him, the doctor nodded. At that point another nurse came in carrying a large bag and stood next to the doctor. Then he was told to strip, when he objected, the solider glared at him for his arrogance, while the doctor…

“Mr MacGyver you are clearly injured, wearing filthy clothes will not help. The nurse has a set of clean medical scrubs. Now if you please”

Mac realising, he wasn’t going to win eased of his jeans and top and the rest of his clothes. He couldn’t stop himself from flinching as the material rubbed against his cut up skin. The doctor examined him, registering the track marks on his arms and the soldier scoffed at him. Mac painfully aware of how this looked, tried to explain

“Wait…please I can explain…I think…It’s not what you think…They…whoever captured me…they drugged me”

The doctor raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The soldier murmured something that sounded like “junkie scum” under his breath. The doctor finished off his examination, cleaning up all the cuts. The slice across his leg required several stitches, so Mac found himself butt naked leaning against a wall with a man putting a needle into his leg. The lines across his cheek and his feet were raw, infected even, but not deep. The doctor also took a blood sample from Mac, pulling a syringe from the medical bag. After he was bandaged up and what felt like an age, he was allowed to get dressed. He stood there still shaking, unsure of what to do. The doctor directed him to stand next to the opposite wall, Mac speedily complied his eyes still on the man with the gun. Two other hospital staff came in, holding a temporary bed between them. They set it up in the corner, Mac could see a set of restraints on it. The doctor stepped forward once again

“Mr MacGyver, you will stay here until further notice. You are deemed too higher risk for the regular medical ward. You’ll be fed and watered, if you need a bathroom break, a guard will escort you. If you resist or make trouble, you can see the restraints on that bed. A nurse will come by in the morning to give you antibiotics. Director Webber will come and question you. Then you’ll be moved to another facility for containment, do you understand?”

Mac’s stomach dropped at the last sentence

“Mr MacGyver, do you understand?”

He nodded not trusting himself to respond. The doctor then presented him with two pills and a water bottle he pulled from the bag. Mac swallowed them speedily and handed it back to him. Then the mini crowd that had gathered in the room departed and the door was locked once more. Mac was left with his only own thoughts for company. He perched on the bed trying to think of what to do. But he couldn’t get Jack’s face out of his head. He had this sick feeling in his stomach and he knew that it wouldn’t got until he knew what had happened to him. The minutes turned into hours as Mac settled onto the bed and stared at the walls, eventually the drugs the doctor gave him kicked in and Mac fell asleep.

He woke up a few hours later in semi-darkness, the lights had been dimmed. He’d turned around on the bed, so his back was to the door. Mac didn’t move when he heard the door open. An unknown hand pulled him up knocking one his bare feet against the metal frame, he heard a voice in his ear horribly reminiscent of Murdoc

“Hey hey, this is no time to sleep…I’m not done with you.”

The unknown voice slammed him into the opposite wall. It was the solider from before, who’d referred to him as “junkie scum”. Mac was temporarily stunned but put his hands up to defend himself as the soldier went in for a punch. He managed to hold him off for a little while but being half starved and bruised meant he was weaker and slower. Eventually the guy’s hands made contact with his ribs and Mac could have sworn he heard them crack. He buckled from the pain, the soldier pressed his advantage and Mac took a hit to the face and fell to the floor, then the kicking to the ribs (to make sure they were well and truly wrecked) and the stomach started

“You know Jack was my friend, he was nice to me. Got me this job…you killed him for what...for kicks? You’re a murderer…a junkie scum murderer…”

“I can…explain…I…ahhh” Mac responded but then he got kicked in the face. He spat on blood onto the floor. He tried to get up, but a boot on his back kept him down

“You’re dirt, you’re going to suffer for what you did. You think this bad? If Jack doesn’t make it…I’m coming for you.”

The soldier finished off this little routine by slamming his elbow into Mac’s back. Mac groaned audibly. The man sniggered and left Mac on the floor. He lay there on his stomach for a little while, his face resting against the cold. His body now hurt even more, his lip was cut, the slice against his face was open again as was the wound in his leg. He could feel the blood seeping out onto his clothes, his back was on fire from where the guy had hit him. The rational bit of his brain told him to get up, lying in his own blood would not help anyone, but the other bit said…you deserve this after what’ve you done…you got off lightly for what you did.

So Mac remained there on the floor in the dark.


End file.
